


En Garde

by DarthAbby



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fencing, Gen, Sword Fighting, it all ends happily though, little tiny bit of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: It was… distractingly light in his hand, he decided, rolling the hilt around on his palm, trying to find the balance point. He was definitely used to something with a bit more weight to it.“You don’t have to do this, you know.”“I actually think I do, Master.”Or, Obi-Wan stabs his friends, it's just what he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly why I took a fencing class this year lmao
> 
> Credit to the great Ruth Baulding for like 80% of Obi-Wan's characterization in this, seriously her Lineage/Legacy AU is my source for most of my Obi-Wan characterization.

It was… distractingly light in his hand, he decided, rolling the hilt around on his palm, trying to find the balance point. He was definitely used to something with a bit more weight to it.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I actually think I do, Master.”

Qui-Gon gave his apprentice an exasperated look. “I know how much you enjoy sparring, Padawan, but this is very different to lightsaber training.”

Obi-Wan returned the look blandly. “Well, yes, Master, I did notice that I can touch this blade without chopping my own hand off.”

“ _Brat_.”

“Kenobi,” an official walked over, looking very uncomfortable to be interrupting the Jedi. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan answered airily. “Tell, me, ah… ?”

“Rouddish.”

“Rouddish,” he smiled. “Tell me, Rouddish, what are the rules?”

“You stay inside the marked area. Go outside of it, automatic forfeit.”

“I see. Anything else?”

Rouddish shrugged. “Hit without being hit.”

“Yes, I kind of figured that out myself,” Obi-Wan said dryly. He gave the sword an experimental slash. “Anything else?”

“Well, usually these fights are to first blood, so as long as you nick the Prince before he nicks you, you’re in the clear.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Rouddish nodded and walked away. Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon.

“See, Master? Nothing to fear.”

“Put your lightsaber where your mouth is, Padawan. The fight isn't over yet.”

“It's a saber, not a lightsaber.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “And don't expect me to bail you out, either.”

“Never, Master.”

The stands were starting to fill, and Obi-Wan motioned for Qui-Gon to leave. “Go find a seat, Master. I'll be more than fine.”

“Hm,” Qui-Gon grunted. “Be careful not to _inspire_ the Prince too much, Padawan.”

A wicked grin was all he got in return.

“Combatants, to the center!”

Obi-Wan gave his master a final nod and handed him his lightsaber before walking confidently into the arena with only the old-fashioned saber at his side.

The Prince stalked in from the opposite side, head high and eyes dark with anger. In comparison, Obi-Wan was the picture of calm serenity - he met the Prince’s glare evenly and offered him a short bow. “Your Highness.”

The Prince’s lips narrowed and he motioned for the director to get on with it.

The director was a tall man with a very large mustache, which twitched as he spoke. “His Royal Highness has requested that the traditional rules be followed in this bout. Sharpened sabers, as have been provided, and to the death.”

Obi-Wan felt a small prickling sensation go up his spine. He didn't want to kill anyone, especially not the Prince. Along the training bond, he sensed Qui-Gon’s growing concern.

The Prince was watching him, waiting for him to protest and back out of the fight. As if Obi-Wan would give him the satisfaction. He nodded in agreement.

The director and line judges, including Rouddish, stepped back, outside of the confines of the strip. Obi-Wan and the Prince backed up to the starting lines, sabers at the ready.

“ _En garde_!” The director called out. Obi-Wan fell into a ready stance matching the Prince - it felt awkward and stiff, but reminded him of Form II. No real trouble, then. “Ready! Fence!”

The Prince rushed forward aggressively, intent on making Obi-Wan back completely out of the strip. _I think not_.

He brought up the saber in a swift parry; too far up, in fact. Automatically compensating for the missing heft of his lightsaber, Obi-Wan’s parry went wider than he had intended, knocking both the Prince’s blade as well as his own well away from any sort of target area.

They both corrected back to center, the Prince looking exceptionally annoyed. “What's the matter, Jedi?” he asked. “I thought you were all renowned for your saber skills.”

“Every new blade requires some getting used to,” he replied, valiantly resisting the urge to rise to the bait. “I'd like to see you try to wave around a lightsaber perfectly on the first try.”

Forgoing an answer, the Prince lunged forward again, aiming for the Jedi’s shoulder.

Years of battling against his peers and Master, however, had made Obi-Wan more than able to spot a feint, and he brought his saber down in a quick parry before going in for the counterattack. The Prince responded with another parry-repost, and they entered into a flurry of movements, blades ringing against each other.

Going from a parry into a downward slash, Obi-Wan clipped his blade against the Prince’s forward foot before he could move back.

“Halt!”

At the director’s shout, the two stepped back from each other, sabers dropping to point at the ground.

“First touch to Jedi Kenobi,” the director announced.

“ _Padawan_.”

“Padawan,” he corrected flippantly. “Grounds!” He held out a hand, indicating the new starting point, and the Prince and Obi-Wan fell back into their stances. “Ready! Fence!”

The Prince wasted no time, double lunging and forcing Obi-Wan to back up defensively. He twirled the saber in a figure-8, blocking another attack and gaining the upper hand.

“That's not regulation,” the Prince observed, blocking his tack with a grunt.

“It is in the Temple,” Obi-Wan informed him, cheerily ignoring the fact that many Masters over the years had reprimanded him against being ‘too showy’ in his ‘saber flourishes.

In lieu of a response, the Prince rushed forward at an outright sprint, blade aimed for Obi-Wan’s chest. He dropped to a crouch, blade coming up protectively, felt it catch on something.

“Halt!”

He rose again, turning to look at where the Prince had stopped behind him, teeth gritted and blood dripping from his sword arm.

“First blood to Padawan Kenobi.”

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked as the Prince walked past him without making eye contact.

“Yes,” he snapped, returning to his original position.

“Reset after a flèche attack,” the director informed Obi-Wan. He nodded and moved back to his starting area as well. “ _En garde_! Ready! Fence!”

 _Time to end this_. He pushed forward, not waiting for the Prince this time. Blades clashed together and Obi-Wan pressed back harder, forcing the Prince on the defensive. Hand trembling a little under the stress of fighting and his wound, the Prince backed up accordingly.

They were nearing the end of the strip, and the Prince seemed well aware of this. Right hand still shaking slightly, he pivoted without warning, transferring the saber to his left hand. Caught off-guard, Obi-Wan found himself on the defensive once again.

 _Somehow, I don't think that’s entirely legal_. Well, if the Prince wasn't going to play by his own rules, then Obi-Wan saw no reason why he had to, too.

In the back of his mind, Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s exasperated amusement as he flipped up and over the Prince, swiping him on the back of the head with the flat of his blade. The Prince stumbled forward, and by the time he had spun around, Obi-Wan’s blade was inches from his throat.

“Shall we just say that I won? I'd hate to kill you, Highness.”

For a moment, the Prince only stared. Then, he broke out into laughter, startling the Jedi.

“Yes, my friend, I'd say that you won - though hardly fair and square.”

Obi-Wan brought his saber down to his side. “I'm only as much of a cheat as my opponent.”

The Prince nodded, looking very amused. “Most people don't dare call me out on that.”

“Most people aren't Jedi.”

“Very true.” He held out his hand and Obi-Wan shook it as the director belatedly called for a halt. “Who taught you how to fence, anyways?”

“You did.”

“Pardon?”

“I've never fenced before,” he explained. “It's similar to one of the lightsaber disciplines, but mostly I was just mirroring you.”

The Prince laughed. “Of course you were.”

A hand suddenly clapped down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he registered his Master’s presence as the older man spoke.

“Well fought, you two. So, Your Highness, can we count on your support?”

“Of course,” the Prince said easily. “I was always going to support you.”

“What?” Obi-Wan said incredulously “Then why bother with all of this?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “It's not every day one has a chance to spar with a Jedi, now, is it?”

Obi-Wan blinked at him. “You're very strange, Highness.”

“So I've heard,” the Prince grinned. “And, please, my friends call me Bail.”

“Obi-Wan.”

They shook hands again, smiling at each other.

“I have a feeling that you and I are going to be very good friends, Obi-Wan.”

“As do I, Bail. As do I.”


End file.
